A Turk's Tale
by The Turk
Summary: A hot-headed rookie turk. A time when things weren't the way they now are. A road to damnation. And an answer to where the Turks got their reputation from. **Update: Chapter 6 up! (prologue disconsidered)**
1. Prologue: The Velvet Room

"A Turk's Tale" - Prologue  
  
Right, this is the introduction to my story "A Turk's Tale" and I think it's a bit redundant to say that all characters belong to squaresoft and so on. Actually, I wonder what happens if u don't, if you just go right on to the story? Let's say i won't. I simply refuse to, for no good reason. Like, is squaresoft gonna send ppl after me or something? Heh, yeah right.  
  
*knock on the door*  
  
voice: Open up. SquareSoft Client Squad!  
  
"Client Squad"? That's _got_ to be evil! gahh! o.o okay okay! I'll say it! Allcharacter'sarecopytrightedbysquaresoftandidon'townanyofthemoreven!! Go away now!! GO!! LEAVE ME ALONEEE!!  
  
voice: Er.. sir? we just wanted to show you some catalogues for games u might be interested in.. Perhaps we should just.. er.. slip them under the door.  
  
voice2: psst.. whisper whisper. (jeez, what a freak.)  
  
*ahem*  
  
-------  
  
  
  
"Each sector used to have a name, though no-one in Midgar remembers them anymore..."  
  
  
  
Next stop: Restan District. Restan district.  
  
The Turk folded his newspaper haphazardly and shoved it into his briefcase. What a day. Paperwork piled upon paperwork. He joined the Turks for the action, the rush - not to be stuck in an office filing senseless reports.  
  
"Give me a field mission - just _one_ good field mission and you won't regret it" he said out loud to himself, throwing his head back.  
  
People were staring. He gulped and composed himself, puting on his serious 'Turk face'. Be cool. Be cool. You're a turk. Everyone on this train respects you and looks up to you as Shinra's elite. Don't screw up during your first month, that's all. Make a name for yourself and then you can go doing whatever you like.  
  
Next stop, Dail district. Dail district.  
  
The train whistled loudly as it skidded to a halt. He got up, still mainting his Ideal Turk posture, glanced around the wagon and left. So easy to get around this town, he thought. Anyone could take that train straight up to the Shinra building and try to break in or something. They should get some chekpoints or alarms or hell, any kind of security. Hmm... he smiled to himself, proudly. ID checks. He'd suggest that to the R&D chief first thing tommorrow morning.  
  
Once outside the train, he made his ways through the narrow shady streets of the Dail district. Twice he stopped, lost and took out a little matchbox from his pocket, glanced at it, then shoved it back inside. Right. No.. left. No.. Damn it, how'd the others find this bar in the first place? The only illumination in these streets was from the neon sign which hung above doors and on walls. Gamble Now. Hot Chicks. Best Weapons. He was starting to think that they'd tricked him. What if there was no bar after all..? No, he had the matchbox. Another glance at it. "The Velvet Room - Dail District". Go on then he smirked. Try and get the rookie Turk lost. Won't work. He stopped suddenly and laughed to himself. A test!! That's what it was! He had to reason this one out. What did he know about them? They were Turks. Alright, that's one. What else? Well, the bald guy didn't talk much. The tall one was very.. well, 'smooth'. Okay, so they keep to themselves and look good. No, that's not it. They're pro's. A Turk is arrogant by nature. They don't want to be where everyone is. They want something private. Something elite, like themselves. Something hidden. Something... underground. He smiled. Not bad, for a rookie, huh? In a flash he whipped out his mobile and dialed the main shinra building. "Hello, Urban Development? This is ID#4591-Z requesting a list of buildings with basements or garages registered to commercial establishments in the Dail District. Sure, I'll hold. Right. Uh huh. And... what was that last one? Okay, great. Thanks a lot, Reeve."  
  
Putting the phone away hastily, he dashed off towards the first location. Nothing. Second... a tattoo shop. Finally, he found himself in front of the third and last place Reeve had given him. An old building with a rusted iron door. Locked. Damn it. He was about to give up, take the train and go home when something flashed in the darkness next to the building. A neon sign in an alley. His eyes lit up. That _had_ to be it. They wouldn't put a sign there for no good reason, would they? He ran into the alley and waited for the sign to flash again, impatient like a little kid unwrapping a gift. It did, and this time he could clearly make out a neon "Velvet" written on it and the outline of a side door do the building beside it. He laughed out loud again and opened the door.  
  
Bass playing, dim blue lighting, black granite-top tables, an aquarium.. and the extensive bar filled with more drinks than you can name in a month. This had to be the place. And if he was still in doubt, the fact that there were three men in navy blue suits sitting round a table looking right at him did away with that. He smiled broadly to himself and made towards them. So he was finally inside. This is where shinra's elite 'hang out'. Nice. One of them, Wutain and the tallest of the three stood up to greet him. There was a brief, curteous smile on his lips then a glance at his watch before he finally held out his hand and said. "Welcome. You're late, Vincent Valentine." 


	2. Chapter 1: Suits and Labcoats

Chapter 1 - Suits and Labcoats  
  
The loud bangs from the rifle echoed incessantly across the shooting alley accompanied only by the soft tinkling of empty cartridges cascading to the floor.  
  
"He has the devil's aim." muttered an amused Tseng who watched enraptured.  
  
Beside him, rude merely nodded.  
  
Te two Turks stood side by side like living statues. Young men of about 20, broad shouldered and tall with a gaze that could unnerve the bravest man. Mako-eyed gods in business suits. These were the first. The true Turks, Tseng would say. And not without reason. Now the force was growing, but there was a time when it was only him and Rude. He smiled to himself behind the thick glass of the shooting alley. They had been nothing but boys. Tseng himself was merely 17 when the Turks were created, and yet they stood proud.  
  
"Excuse me, sir." the eastern accent was strong and evident in the boy's voice, his short black hair combed neatly to the side and equally neatly trimed. "but we are here.. with a proposition."  
  
"Proposition?" snarled the large cadet. Captain of the 42nd Division, distinguished combatant defending midgar several times during invasion and a ruffian at heart.  
  
"Yes. I am Tseng, of the Turks. We come on behalf of the President. Bearing in mind your.. abilities, we are honored to invite you to join special forces team SOLDIER. I assume you will acc-"  
  
"SOLDIER my ass!" growled the Captain. "Why, so I can be your little labrat and have you pump me full of god knows what to do your dirty business??"  
  
The young Tseng raised an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
"Think I don't know about you..?? My brother joined SOLDIER three years ago. Where the hell is he now? Huh? Can you tell me that? Dead or crammed in a test tube somewhere, that's where. While we're out there sweatin' our ass out to save Midgar where's SOLDIER..? Off on some classified mission? No, don't give me that! And you..."  
  
Tseng waited politely for the outburst to end.  
  
"You Turks ain't nothing but kids running errands for the President. If you knew the first thing about combat you wouldn't be standing in that suit in the first place. You'd be protecting our borders, that's where you'd be. So you can take your 'proposition' and cram it up your wutai a-- "  
  
He was on the ground with a loud crash and Tseng standing menaceingly over him before he could finish that. The young Turk smiled.  
  
"If you knew the first thing about combat.. you wouldn't insult a Turk." His foot was on the captain's neck, ready to break it at the slightest flinch. "now this is how a Turk proposition works. We propose, you accept, nobody get's hurt. We propose, you deny.. snap goes your neck. Shall we try again..?"  
  
"Tseng, that's enough! SOLDIER has no openings for broken vertebra or traumatized minds. Let him go."  
  
  
  
Ah, how he resented that cursed SOLDIER commander. On that day he had proven himself superior. Superior to SOLDIER. He sighed patiently as he watched Vincent empty his last rounds. To think that the great Turks were destined to use all their skill in scouting out fools playing at being heroes.  
  
The last empty cartridge tinled lightly on the floor and the newest Turk took off his mufflers.  
  
"Not bad, Valentine, not bad.." spoke Tseng finally, breaking the deafening silence which had descended after all the shots. He whipped his bangs out of his eyes characterstically.  
  
"Not bad?? Tee, come ON, that was perfect! Look at it, 30/30!"  
  
Tseng lifted an eyebrow in amusement.  
  
"Tee..?"  
  
The statue-like Rude smiled and the trio started making their way out of the shooting alley.  
  
"Heh, anyway, the point is: Let me go with you. You know I'm just as good as any turk around!" begged Vincent.  
  
"Valentine, do you know what kind of mission this is..? It is _not_ a regular Turk assignment. There shall be no SOLDIER candidates where we're going."  
  
"I know, I know. Nibelheim. Classified. But that's what you always said we should be doing, right? That's what the Turks should be, isn't it..? I'm with you, just let me prove myself. Let me show you that I'm a real Turk."  
  
Tseng stopped and sighed.  
  
"I'll ask the president."  
  
* * *  
  
Vincent couldn't start pacing around the ShinRa lobby, his perfect Turk shoes clicking loudly against the polished marble floor. He was biting his nails nervously, his crimson eyes darting here and there, his eyebrows in constant frown. This was it. Not only would it be a field mission, but it would be a _major_ field mission. Classified. not even Heidegger and the others new about it. This.. was Turk business. Tseng should be down any minute with the answer. Any minute now..  
  
"Settle down, Turk." came a cold metallic voice.  
  
Sitting on one of the large leather couches - which the lobby was very famous for - was a young long-haired man. Scientist. His lab coat gave that away easily enough. His black hair was tied in a ponytail just below his shoulders, noted Vincent. He always wanted to grow his hair long, shame the Turk dress code didn't allow it, but he knew Tseng was planning to change that soon enough.  
  
"I can't settle down.." answererd the Turk nervously. "I'm waiting for someone. For some news.. about this assignment, you see..?"  
  
"Ah." noted the man curtly. He was probably about Vincent's age, but he acted as if he were some sort of ancestral wise being - all knowing and all commanding.  
  
Silence.  
  
"First day on the job..?" asked the scientist at last.  
  
"Wha..? No. I've been a Turk for a while already."  
  
"Doesn't look like it." was his acid reply.  
  
Vincent stopped and narrowed his eyes at him. The man was beginning to annoy him.  
  
"Well, who are _you_ anyway? Haven't seen you around either." he snapped.  
  
"Of course not. My name is Hojo, I am a special envoy from Junon, to meet here in Midgar with Tseng. One of the real Turks." he replied, adding a special emphasis on the last part.  
  
Vincent's eyes inflamed. How dare he?? He glared silently at the man, his teeth clenched tightly together, and the look of a tiger about to pounce on his prey.  
  
Silence. Hojo merely stared back at the Turk, as if challenging him to do so.  
  
Finally the tension was broken by the noise of the elevator arriving and the doors opening. Tseng stepped out.  
  
"Professor Hojo." they shook hands. "And Valentine. Good. You're both here. To the 68th floor, gentlemen, if you please." He announced, ushering them into the elevator. 


	3. Chapter 2: Tainted Honor

Ch. 2 - Tainted Honor  
  
The three men stood silently as the panoramic elevator slowly took them up the massive skyscraper that was the ShinRa building. Tseng glanced briefly at his watch whilst Vincent leant against the glass, observing the city down below. Midgar. A city he'd grown to know so well in so little time. But this was how he saw it the most.. from above. A shinra employee felt superior to midgar by nature. How then should the Turks not feel so, watching from their high offices. He frowned. When did he get this philosphical and serious, he thought. That scientist sucked the humour right out of his day.  
  
65th floor. The elevator stopped and a man walked in. Burgundy suit, short, gold rings on his fingers and graying hair despite his thirty- something years.  
  
"President Shinra" noted Tseng, politely.  
  
"Tseng. Valentine." he nodded curtly to each of them "And you must be.. Professor Hojo. An honor to have you with us." he said warmly, shaking hands with the scientist.  
  
Vincent was very aware of the lump in his throat. Say something, say something. Something witty and Turkish.  
  
"Er.. nice tie, president." he froze. The president frowned. They all stared at him. A morbid silence descended until the elevator announced the arrival at the 68th floor.  
  
The trio was about to disembark when the Vincent felt the President's arm on his shoulder.  
  
"Not you, Valentine. There some.. pressing matter about which I wish to see you. Accompany me to the 70th floor, will you..?" he said simply. Tseng took the hint and left with Hojo down the hallway.  
  
The lump in Vincent's throat turned into a boulder. The 70th floor. He had been there once when he was made a Turk, but never again. Most shinra employees died without ever seeing anything above the 30th. Indeed very few people came and went to the 70th floor at will. Tseng was one, Rail another.  
  
The doors reopened. The place was wide and immense. large marble and stone pillars were here and there, and the floor itself was an array of stone patterns. At the far end of the room, close to the windows which oversaw the whole of Midgar was the President's desk. It was one of the few items of furniture in the room, and the result was of a profound aristocratic emptiness.  
  
The president made his way to his desk but did not sit. He offered a large leather lined chair to Vincent, who refused. More out of nervousness than politeness really.  
  
"Valentine, Valentine.. The newest Turk. Contrary to what you might be thinking, I did _not_ call you here to admonish or warn you." he began. Vincent felt his cramped muscles relax slowly. "No, much to the contrary. I have summoned you because I want your advice."  
  
The Turk's eyebrows raised in disbelief.  
  
"My... advice..?" he muttered  
  
"Indeed. You see, the matter at hand is delicate. Do you know what the Cetra are?"  
  
"No sir. I don't."  
  
"They were once a proud race who inhabited this planet. The term 'Ancient' is more commonly used nowadays. In any case, they were beings of immense wisdom and power. All usage of materia comes from them, as does Mako."  
  
"I'm.. not sure I understand." said the Turk scratching his hand.  
  
"You will. The Cetra believed that when they died, they 'returned to the planet'. To the lifestream. That is where we get our Mako from. It is the energy, the memories - the lifeforce of the Cetra. You have seen the reactors. However, useful as Mako may be consider the following, Vincent: A being with the power of an ancient. A normal human, but joined with Mako."  
  
"Isn't that what is done with SOLDIER..?" asked the Turk.  
  
"In a way, yes. But we are talking here of extraordinary levels. A human so infused with Mako that he is essentially an Ancient. Think of it, Vincent. A warrior with the might of the gods. Think of the great deeds we could accomplish with such a being by our side."  
  
Vincent frowned.  
  
"Forgive me for saying this, president, but.. I still don't see how this concerns me or the Turks." he said.  
  
The president paused. Then spoke again.  
  
"Tseng has been coming to me with certain requests. He says the Turks aren't used to their full potential, that scouting for SOLDIER candidates and serving as my bodyguards isn't enough. Would you agree with this view, Valentine..?"  
  
Vincent's eyes darted here and there. Of course he wanted to see more action! Wanted to be out there, doing something, feeling the adrenaline!  
  
"I.. yes. I do agree with Tseng." he stated finally.  
  
"Ah." the president smiled. "Then you are in luck. You may have hard of Tseng's special assignment. I, too, think the Turks could be better employed. That is why I have decided to do this. However, there are certain.. complications. Rail, your current leader is against Tseng in these matters. He believes the Turks should file reports and run after SOLDIER. He is not, of course, absolutely wrong. He also disapproves of the current plan I have devised - the Nibel Mission, saying it is not 'Turk business'. In that, too, is he partly in the right. The Turks cannot officialy execute a mission such as the one Tseng and I have planned."  
  
Vincent's heart fell. All his high hopes of seeing action and becoming known were about to be flushed. The President turned his back to Vincent, looking out to Midgar.  
  
"That is why.." he began. Slowly. Meditatively. "we shall do it extra-officially. The mission shall not exist. The Turk leader Rail shall be sent off to some faraway place under some pretext. Tseng shall take yourself, Rude and Professor Hojo to Nibel, where he shall explain to you what is to be done. All very secretively. No word of this to anyone. You are now working under my direct orders. Not as a Turk, but as the President's special envoy." he finished, adding extra emphasis on 'special'.  
  
Vincent felt the rush of excitement rush through him. Secret mission, huh? Heh, if his friends could see him now. Vincent Valentine, one of the finest Turks around - scouting for SOLDIER members by day, fulfilling secret missions by night. He smiled broadly.  
  
"President.. I'm in! Glad to be working for you."  
  
"Excellent" said ShinRa, turning to face him once again and extending his hand. "I knew the Turks had made a good choice when they picked you." he concluded with the flash of a smile.  
  
They shook hands and Vincent was dismissed.  
  
The president slowly made his way back to his desk then hit the intercom switch to the 68th floor.  
  
"Tseng? I've dealt with him, the rookie will be on your side, you have your sniper." 


	4. Chapter 3: Sinner

Ch. 3: Sinner  
  
The four Turks stood around the large oval table, the room darkened for the map projections which hovered before them. A model of the city of Nibelheim was rotating slowly in mid-air, key areas marked by electronic tags. The main highlight was, of course, the Shinra mansion.  
  
Rail, the Turk leader was all frown.  
  
"I refuse. I will _not_ lead the Turks into such a mission." came his sudden outburst.  
  
"Sir, please understand!" responded Vincent excitedly "You know we - all of us - are above the missions they give us! I mean, scouting for SOLDIER..? We're Shinra's elite! Hell, I've never seen a SOLDIER candidate that could surpass a Turk. Sir - we're the best. If tactical field missions is what the president wants, then let's show him what the Turks are made of."  
  
Tseng smiled. The Turks were his.  
  
Rail collapsed into a nearby chair and slowly began massaging his temple. He was shorter than Tseng, but well built, with short red hair and cold cobalt-blue eyes.  
  
"You understand that. what the president is suggesting is goes against all ethics and morals that the Turks ever stood for? Do none of you oppose this?"  
  
Vincent looked down and closed his eyes. He didn't wasn't to think about it. If he did.. he might spoil his one chance to become someone, to make a name for himself. And besides.. how bad could it be..?  
  
A heavy silence descended upon them.  
  
Rail sighed, then slowly got up and straightened out his suit. He nodded.  
  
"I see. So this is the new face of the Turks. Well there is one Turk who still holds fast to his principles. One who will not play along with this twisted game no matter what. Tseng, tell the president my resignation letter will be on his desk tomorrow morning."  
  
He made for the door, keeping all his composure. Before exiting, however, he turned and shot one final accusing glance at Vincent as if to say 'why did you betray us..?' and left.  
  
Tseng paced slowly to the place where Rail had once been.  
  
"Gentlemen" he began. "The Turks are under new management now. A new era is rising in which the Turks shall be the Shinra's right hand at all times. You will all shape the new Midgar - the new Shinra."  
  
Rude smiled and the door opened.  
  
Hojo walked in, quickly taking a seat. Vincent looked at him puzzled, then felt the anger rise up in him as the scientist opened a broad thin smile towards the Turk.  
  
"Tseng, what is he doing he--"  
  
"Curb your anger, Valentine. Professor Hojo has come to Midgar precisely to meet us and accompany us to Nibelheim."  
  
"What??" yelled the young Vincent in disbilief.  
  
"The professor has been studying Jenova cells ever since he was a child. He will be crucial in this operation."  
  
Vincent felt his hands curl into fists. He didn't like this Hojo. Not one bit.  
  
"All right then, to the mission. Rude, if you please."  
  
The silent Turk hit a switch. The swirling model of Nibelheim stopped and began to change according to Tseng's briefing.  
  
"We arrive at Nibelheim at 19.00hs. In that region, nightfall will have fallen by then. Professor Hojo and myself shall make our way to the Shinra mansion, in which our Target is located. The Target is a scientist working on the Jenova project.  
  
"Important discoveries have been made, but about a week ago, the usual reports and briefings have ceased to come in. We believe our Target is holding information from the Midgar office. In any case, since we speak of Jenova cells and the Jenova project, we expect resistance from both the Target and experimental.. accidents. I should be able to deal with them on the way to the labs. From that point on, Professor Hojo will go through the data analyzing relevants results to be taken back to Midgar. I will find the Target so that it may be transported with us.  
  
"Rude will be heading towards the reactor on private orders"  
  
"So... what do _I_ do?" asked Vincent, unable to contain his curiosity.  
  
Tseng smiled.  
  
"You are our sniper. Your location will be the top of the building labeled A-003 on the model. If the Target escapes the Shinra mansion, you are to halt its progress immediately. Do not allow the Target to leave town under any circumstances. Is that understood..?"  
  
Vincent closed one eye and made a mock gun with his hand, firing it silently into a wall.  
  
"Got it, Tee."  
  
Next chapter: Nibelheim Storm. 


	5. Chapter 4: Nibelheim Storm

Ch. 4: Nibelheim Storm  
Rain was pouring down in sheets when they arrived at Nibelheim, and the sky was a leaden gray. Heavy raindrops battered heavily over the slanted rooftops and on the cobblestones which paved the roads in the northern mountain town. As was always the case in Nibelheim, it was cold and the Turks could feel the difference in temperature from the moment they got off the ShinRa car. This was Vincent's first time in the North Mountains and he already felt he disliked the place. As soon as the car had skidded to a halt all the Turks were to go immediately to their positions, so this was really not a time for touring around. Vincent shouldered the large sniper rifle and began to make his way through the heavy rain, his feet splashing frequently in large puddles. It made no difference anyhow, since after merely a few seconds of running through town he was soaked through. But he ran on, through the quaint little houses and across dozens of small narrow alleyways. Every now and then he could see the steeple of some tall building which he assumed to be the fabled ShinRa mansion. It sent a shiver down his spine. That was one place he'd like never to get to know. Finally he found the house where he was supposed to be sniping from. It was a three storey lodging, obviously inhabited by some wealthier resident with a roof which overlooked most of Nibelheim. Blinking his eyes to cleanse them from the rain, he looked around. Crates. A smaller neighboring house. Perfect. He passed the strap attached to the rifle around his back and began.  
  
From one crate he jumped to a higher crate. From that, to the balcony of that neighboring house with the nimbleness and swiftness of a feline - or of a Turk. Finally, he took his distance, ran forwards and with a great leap made it to the rooftop he needed to reach. Taking up a stable position, he cocked the heavy rifle and gazed into the scope. ShinRa Mansion door, in sight. The rain poured relentlessly over him making loud metallic clangs against the metal of the rifle's barrel. There was a crash of thunder, and he felt himself suddenly full of a sense of great foreboding.  
  
Tseng ran a hand through his rain-drenched hair as he walked calmly across town, Professor Hojo close behind him carrying a black umbrella. Once he glanced at his watch and gave a small, satisfied nod. Twice people had stopped and stared, to which he responded with a curt and simple:  
  
"Tough weather. I'd run inside if I were you." Accompanied by a glance only assassins can muster  
  
Eventually he arrived at the looming gates of the ShinRa Mansion. Turning to raise an inviting eyebrow at Hojo, he pushed the massive bars open, proceeding to walk calmly through the path. The front door was locked. He smiled to himself in amusement at their thinking that a locked door might contain a Turk. With a swift jab at it, the door fell inwards revealing the main anteroom and about a dozen of Nibelheim's strongest men. His eyebrow once again arched, this time in bemused surprise.  
  
Hojo waited outside under his umbrella. Inside, Tseng had just come into the knowledge that these men had been camping in the Mansion for a few days ever since news was received that the ShinRa would be coming for the labs. After he pressured them through political influence (his preferred means), one of them pulled a rusty sword and began making his way towards Tseng.  
  
"You. you cannot. ShinRa does not know what it is dealing with. A step further and I'll kill you, Turk or not."  
  
"Is that so.?" Whispered Tseng silkily. The next second the man had fallen dead onto the ground. Thunder crashed outside. The others, possessed by a sudden fury rushed towards him at once. His fists met and cracked jaws, his elbows dug deep into kidneys, spleen and thoraxes. It was a game to him, a warm-up for whatever he might find down there. Blood spattered as he dug two of his rigid fingers into a man's throat, cracking another's neck with a swift kick simultaneously. The endless melody of the cracking of bones and puncturing of organs filled the room as blood sprayed copiously on the floor. In a few minutes they were all dead. Tseng adjusted his tie and Hojo walked meekly inside, pulling his umbrella closed and careful not to step over any of the corpses.  
  
The duo proceeded silently but quickly down the melancholic hallways and corridors of the mansion. Most of the walls were adorned with portraits of President ShinRa, painted in morbid depictions; here as a dark king, there as a gluttonous demon and one in such a surrealist style and so full of symbolism that one couldn't help conjecturing that he was depicted as a God incarnate. Once deeper inside the bowels of the Mansion, twice had Tseng had to stop to deal with a wandering fiend. Though largely at no contest, it had still yielded him a bloody gash which tore through his suit at his abdomen and from which he winced every now and then. They eventually, however, found themselves face-to-face with the large stone chimney-like tower Hojo had previously described. The scientist quickly set to work activating the secret passage, clearly trying to appear as secure of what he was doing - or rather - as godlike as possible. Surely enough, the stone chamber opened, revealing a path of downwards-spiraling staircases into a deep gloom. Tseng turned, nodded to Hojo and they descended, two steps at a time.  
  
What happened later was a blur. The labs were breached; there was gunfire. Someone had shot at Tseng, he had been hit. A table had been turn over, there was glass shattering. A thick smoke filled the air. Hojo was rushing everywhere, grabbing books, notes and test tubes. A black hood slipped over someone's head by Tseng's hand. He grabbed that person who he then slung over his shoulder. A shout was given to Hojo and the Turk began to run out. The scientist was running behind, his arms full of memorandums and paperwork. Tseng's victim was twisting and screaming - among these screams, when they reached the top of the staircase was heard  
  
"Lost number!! Help!"  
  
The mansion began to tremble. It was as if time had suddenly switched back to its normal flow ever since they ran down the staircase. And then, suddenly, the far wall of the room they were in caved in, the debris falling out to reveal a creature of monstrous proportions. Half orange, half purple with arms the size of pillars and gargantuan in stature. It grunted loudly and Tseng froze. Hojo's spectacles dropped to the ground. The juggernaut of a fiend came rushing towards them digging his massive fist in the ground where Tseng would have stood had he not rolled out of the way in time. The Turk wasn't so lucky with the next strike, which knocked him right into the wall with the force of a freight train. He crashed first, breaking part of the fall of the scientist on his shoulder who upon falling to the ground, removing the hood and finding Tseng semi- broken against the wall began to crawl despairingly away. Hojo had hidden behind a large armchair and was now quaking in fear as he heard things crash about behind him.  
  
Tseng got painfully to his feet. He was a bloody wreck. Several of his ribs were broken; one of his shoulders dislocated and his back was torn through and through. That's when he noticed the open safe in the corner of the room. It was his only chance; he would never defeat this thing through blows. Summoning up the energy from the materia he carried, he thrust his hand forward and focused his will on this 'Lost Number' creature. The air was disrupted and a quick swirl of light was noticed at Tseng's feet before the being began to cry out as it shriveled and shrunk, reducing in size until it was no bigger than a large cat. Running towards it despite his many wounds, the Turk kicked the thing with all his might into the safe.  
  
"Hojo!! Close it!!!" He yelled to the cowered scientist.  
  
This latter, realizing what had happened and that his moment of bravery had come, he made a mad rush towards the safe and before the diminutive fiend could get out, had slammed the door heavily shut.  
  
Tseng panted, then pulled out a radio which only through a miracle had kept on working.  
  
"Valentine, Target is headed your way. Halt its progress, now. Shoot on sight."  
  
From the rainy rooftop where he was, Vincent felt himself infused with new adrenaline. Taking the gun to shoulder level once again, he rested his finger on the trigger. Then he saw it. From the door of the ShinRa mansion came a dark smoke, and through that, a shape. He fired. Excellent marksman as he was, there was no miss chance. He picked up the radio. "This is Valentine, Target is. down." His voice trailed off and the radio clattered to the ground from his limp fingers. He looked through the scope again in disbelief. This was no scummy scientist like Hojo. It was a girl, no older than he, lying face down under the at the mansion's doorsteps; the front of her gown covered in blood and rain. And he was the one who had shot her. 


	6. Chapter 5: First Sight

            Ch.5 – First Sight         

Vincent was lying in bed, an upturned palm lying protectively over his forehead.  The jacket of his Turk suit was in a heap on the floor, and the normally impeccable white shirt he wore was now torn open over his bare chest.  Through the tangles of his black hair he stared upwards at the ceiling.  He had been doing so for the past three hours, ever since they had been brought back to Midgar.  Now and then, he swallowed dryly.  His mind was reeling.  What had he done?  She lived, that much he knew.  The question was for how long.  He'd had a burning desire to punch Tseng in the face when his superior complimented him on his performance as they journeyed from Nibelheim.  But he didn't.  He remained silent and bent his head slightly in acquiescence.  Right now his mind was fighting a battle with itself.  He remembered President Shinra's Words about the vision of fully developing the Jenova project, of all the things they would be able to accomplish with this new piece of research.  What if a new ancient _could_ be made?  The ancients were beings of immense power, who knew what feats were feasible to them.  And simply the spotlight of being involved in a project which re-created an ancient…!  Then in his mind, he would hear that shot once again.  The girl doubling over, her labcoat slowly being dyed crimson.  Was it justified?  Was there a justification for what he'd done?  Something that'd make his wrong a right?  He couldn't think.  He needed to cool off, he reasoned.  Have a drink.  Calm down.  Do anything but stay here in bed staring at the ceiling.  

With a quick jolt, he sat upright and then got off the bed.  Proceeding to his wardrobe, he skimmed through his various navy-blue suits with disapproval.  Finally, deciding upon a simple black shirt and pants, he ran a hand through his dark hair, picked up a pair of red-tinted sunglasses and made his way out of the spacious room.  Enough of being a Turk for one day.

Glowing Mako-Sticks flashed here and there accompanied by the rhythmic pounding beats on the dance floor of ARENA46.  The young Turk was at the bar, letting himself be drowned both in the thought-breaking music and in drink.  He stared absent-mindedly at his half-empty glass, his dark bangs falling over his eyes and was vaguely aware that the bartender was saying something to him.  Something about money.  His hands fumbled inside his pocket for a while, then unsteadily produced a small plastic Shinra Emplyee Card.  The bartender's eyes skimmed the card for a few seconds, then widening and he dropped the card onto the counter.

"I… I'm so sorry, sir.  I had no idea a person of your… status was staying here and--"

Vincent drowsily waved him away.  He didn't want to remember.  He didn't want to have to be a Turk for tonight.  All his life this had been his dream, but tonight, he wished the dream would end and he'd wake up.  He was interrupted by a sliding deftly on his shoulder but the disillusioned Turk didn't dare turn around.

"Vinnie…" whispered a silky voice near his ear.  "Where have you been?  You've been away for so long!"

Vincent didn't stir.  He closed his eyes, letting his memory wander back to before he was a Turk.  He had told her he'd gotten a job at Shinra, but at the time he didn't know if he'd make it as a Turk.  How tightly they had embraced before he left.  How passionate that last kiss.  A regular officer in the Shinra military would still be able to see his passion, but Vincent's time was devoted solely to studying and practicing for his one goal.  And he had never really met her again.  He thought of her many times.  Sometimes it was stronger, at other times negligible, but she had always dwelled with him.  Is that why he had come here?  Why he had picked this club out of all others in Midgar?  Had he subconsciously been wanting to see her?

            "Vince… what's wrong?" 

Slowly he turned round to look at her.  A slight smile formed on his lips.  How she'd changed.

            "Long hair."  He muttered.  "You used to say you hated it long."  

The Turk closed his eyes, smirked and took off his red-lensed glasses.

She frowned, then giggled.  An eternity passed as they watched each other.  No words were said – there was only the rhythmic electronic beat of the engulfing music surrounding all.  Her hand went up to his chest, sliding slowly to the back of his neck.  The Turk's eyes were misty as he gazed at her.  She drew close – so very close, her lips parting inviting him.  A myriad of feelings, thoughts, images and emotions rushed through Vincent,  sending him reeling.  He looked away.  She stopped, straightened up and nodded solemnly, biting her lower lip.  Vincent cursed himself under his breath, put on his glasses, and left.

Before he knew it, he was running.  Running blindly through the streets of Midgar.  Running through the steam of exhaust pipes and ventilation ducts, through alleyways and main streets.  His feet were taking him, and now he knew where.  He finally stopped, panting, and leaned against a rusted lamp-post.  His brow was covered in perspiration.  Eventually he looked up, to contemplate the looming structure of the Shinra Tower.  Adrenaline was pumping through him, suppressing the effects of the drink and clearing his mind, focusing his instincts.  Checking his pockets to make sure he had retrieved his Employee Card after the bartender had dropped it, he made his way inside.


	7. Chapter 6: Sympathy for the Devil

            Ch.6 – Sympathy for the Devil

The Shinra building was close to deserted as he crept inside, his footsteps resonating loudly through the first floor lobby.  He crossed the room swiftly, his heart pounding in his ears.  A sign on the notice board read "Shinra New Millennium:  Jenova Project is Coming – Mako Shapes the Future" as he crossed over to where the elevators were.  He inserted his keycard, closing his eyes and leaning back tiredly against the glass frame as the elevator began to ascend.  Up and up they went, Midgar becoming steadily smaller below him.  He ran a hand through his matted hair.  He had to be in time.  He had to.  The elevator stopped.  There was that single high pitched note and the doors opened to allow Professor Hojo to step in.

Vincent broke free from his trance at once and composed himself to look menacingly at the spectacled scientist.

"Late night work, professor?"  he asked dryly.

"Oh, just checking on a 'colleague of profession' one might say.  I could ask you the same question, Valentine.  And no suit… tut tut.  You're supposed to set an example."

A helicopter flew past outside, its white search lights throwing a supernatural glow on Hojo's glasses.  

Vincent removed his keycard with discreet violence and stormed out.  He'd take the stairs, anything was better than sharing the elevator with Hojo.  Plus, he was in a hurry, and could make better time on foot than by elevator.  Dashing past a solitary janitor and an empty coffee machine, he made for the stairwell and began to run up, two steps at a time.  There was something about Hojo's attitude back there, he thought.  Something disturbing.  His 'colleague of profession' – that scientist girl?  Hadn't she suffered enough already?

67th floor.  Sliding his card so as to unlock the stairwell door, he made his way into the hallway.  The building here assumed a much colder, more severe atmosphere than when compared to the lower floors.  These were the world-renown Shinra labs, where some of the company's greatest advances had been produced.  They were now Hojo's territory.  A crude and steady blue light bathed the metallic corridors, interrupted here and there by glass isolation panels.  

Vincent removed his red-tinted glasses and put them away, a vague unease growing over him.  His footsteps fell heavy and chimed loudly upon the metal floor.  What was he looking for?  Why had he come here?  He passed a long laboratory, lined with mechanical arms and glass containers.  Rows of tables filled the area, covered in computer screens where data flashed in an endless stream.  He glanced at a few nonchalantly.  So he proceeded, past corridors and rooms, and suppliers.  Finally, he found himself at a bifurcation.  An arrow to the right read "Containment zone A1-A5",  the left "Zone 406: Restricted.  Only Employees with Justified Clearing".  Both made him shudder, but he decided to start from the Containment Zones.  

Containment, he knew quite well, were the Shinra Prisons.  Occasionally, SOLDIER candidates who reacted violently to Turk persuasions were sent here.  It was a simple, narrow corridor, lined with electronically locked metal doors and that same cold blue light.  What made the scene unusual however, was the spasmodic screaming which filled the area, resonating strongly off the steel walls.  A guard was on duty, unmoved by the guttural outbursts which now Vincent determined were coming from room A3.  Time for a little political pressure, he thought to himself, approaching the officer.

"Valentine" said the Turk, flashing his employee card. "Type 03 Access to Information."

The guard saluted him.

"Tell me about these screams"

"Yes sir.  A few days ago, Tseng brought in a prospective SOLDIER agent.  Mako was administered under the supervision of Professor Hojo from Junon.  I was on watch that night, and nothing out of the ordinary was recorded.  Earlier this afternoon Professor Hojo returned from Nibelheim and ordered a secondary Mako shower.  The screaming began about two hours after exposure.  30 minutes later, we were given orders to transport the subject into Containment."

Vincent was about to explode.  This Hojo fool was going to turn the Shinra into a torture chamber!

"I see."  He answered acidly, with all the calm he could muster.  "And where.. Where did these tests take place?"

"Zone 406, sir."

The Turk nodded briefly to the officer, and ran off in the other direction, a sudden fear gripping his heart.  He prayed that his keycard would grant him the 'Justified Clearing' he needed, and reaching a security door, pressed his hand against the side panel, sliding the card across it with the other.  There were a few seconds of silence whilst the screen displayed Vincent's fingerprints and compared them with the Shinra Database.  Cold sweat ran down his face, and at that moment he knew (though it's impossible to say where the transition between knowing and not-knowing had been) that he was looking for _her._  For the girl he had shot in Nibelheim.

Access Granted, came an impersonal feminine voice, together with the heavy door sliding open.  Tucking his card back into his pocket, the troubled Turk ran inside.

A hospital operating theatre had been set up, though he knew this Zone had served many different purposes in its lifetime.  Surgical tools lay on a cart beside the operation table, along with oxygen supplies, overhead lighting and a few electronic devices which he could not identify.  More importantly, on the table – as he expected, lay the girl.  Her face was chalk white and her lips bluish, forming a sharp contrast against her dark brown hair.  Her chest was rising and falling rhythmically.  She lived.  Vincent let out a drawn out sigh of relief.  So what Tseng had told him was true.  He had not killed her.

Her eyes opened slowly and he felt suddenly a burning shame inflame him.

"I'm awake, don't worry… Who…  who are you?"  she asked with drowsiness.

He didn't know what to say.  'Good morning, I'm the guy who shot you.'

"You need to rest" he answered curtly, laying a had on her forehead.

"No… no need.  Talk to me.  Please."

He gazed at her, his soul heavier than ever.  How could he talk to her?

"Please," she repeated  "I haven't spoken to anyone in weeks.  I was… in the labs.  In Nibelheim.  Now…  I was sleeping.  Sleeping ever since we got back from Nibel.  Whilst they… cut me open.  Such a nice thing… that you can sleep whilst being cut open – no?"  she attempted a smile.

A slight flicker of a smile reflected on Vincent's lips too.  That a person could joke at a time like this.  He nodded to her.

"Sleep is good" he said finally.  "You can forget and let things pass.  Sometimes I wish I could sleep, let all the problems pass, then wake up again."

"Like in an operation" she added.  "Yes… sleeping away all your problems.  Tell me… what's your name?"

Vincent's lips narrowed in uncertainty.

"Doesn't matter," she interceded.  "Mine's Lucrecia.  I hate it."  Once again, that weakened smile, this time making Vincent's take a more solid aspect.

He shook his head slowly.

"Not as bad as getting all the 'Valentine' jokes at school." He answered.

"So your name's Valentine?" 

His smile faded and he cursed under his breath for having betrayed himself so easily.  It was just the sort of thing he'd do.  He nodded.

"Valentine… it's a nice name."  She yawned.  Sleep was creeping over her again. "Better than… Hojo, anyway…" she added.

The Turk's eyebrows soared.

"H-Hojo?!  You know Hojo?"

She just nodded.

"He's a good man.  He was the one who took care of me. I was bleeding a lot… ruptured… something.  he kept saying 'Don't worry, it's nothing.  Nothing at all.  You're a strong girl, Lucrecia.'  Then, when I woke up, he was beside me.  We talked for a bit… then I fell asleep again."

Hojo?  Comforting someone?  Impossible.  He was up to something, that much was certain.  Also… this Lucrecia was only girl.  Could she really be the scientist everyone made her out to be?  Too many questions were running through his mind, but he could see she needed rest.  He smiled at her briefly, then put his glasses back on.  He was about to leave when she called out.

"Valentine."   He stopped.  "There's…  there's no escaping the Shinra, is there?"

The question hit him with full force.  He had no words with which to answer it.  Silently, he just shook his head and was about to leave once again, when he noticed something in a silver tray beside the operating table.  It was his bullet.  The bullet which had prevented her escape.  The bullet with which he'd shot her.  Without thinking, he furtively took it and left.                      


End file.
